Sell the Record

You’ve got your black-squared obedience

On your digital spectre

Don’t mention politics

You just sell the record

No one wants the truth, they want a good time

Take it from me, honey

Keep ‘em drinkin’, keep ‘em dancin’, keep your mouth shut

And take the money

They’ll build your house on shifting sand

And abandon ship

Why does talent come with

Cliche behavior

A pedestal and lowest

Common denominator

Surrounded by pimps and prostitutes

Money and drugs

PR sweeps the bodies and bad press

Under the rug

They own your face, they own your name

They take your pay and make you play the hits

C’mon and play the hits!

Just remember when you’re old and grey and you’ve wasted your days

That, baby, you chose this